


I'll See You Down Life's Highway

by whispered_story



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Time, Fluff, M/M, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Road Trips, Supernatural Elements, Writer Jensen, cameos from a lot of SPN cast members
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-04
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-29 08:25:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12626991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whispered_story/pseuds/whispered_story
Summary: Jensen goes on a road trip, looking for inspiration for his new book. What he ends up finding is Jared – who isn't exactly what he seems to be at first glance.





	I'll See You Down Life's Highway

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [dancing_adrift](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dancing_Adrift) ♥
> 
> Title inspired by Take That's "Here".
> 
> Written for [J2 Reversebang](http://j2-reversebang.livejournal.com/). I had the pleasure of working with the amazing [marietwist](https://marietwist.livejournal.com/) and got to write a story for her beautiful art prompt (art masterpost: [here](http://sketchydean.tumblr.com/post/167125581791/my-art-for-the-j2reversebang-the-lovely-and)).
> 
>    
> 

"I'm leaving."

Danneel raises an eyebrow, hand poised halfway to her mouth, her red painted nails a stark contrast to the white porcelain of the coffee cup.

"Now?" she asks, and then glances at the watch around her wrist. "Honey, we just got here, like, twenty minutes ago."

"No, not now. I'm not talking about this place," Jensen says, waving a hand around the crowded patio. "Los Angeles. I'm leaving Los Angeles for a while."

"You're going on a trip?"

"Kinda," Jensen says. He twists his own cup around on the table, so the handle is facing the wrong way, and frowns. "It's not gonna be a vacation or anything. I'm actually hoping I'll work more on the trip, actually get some writing done."

"And where are you going?" Danneel asks. She's put her coffee back down and she's watching Jensen closely now. It's mostly open curiosity, but there's a bit of concern there, too. She's always been protective of Jensen – not that he needs it, he's a goddamn grown man, but he appreciates her concern anyway.

"Just… somewhere," he says. "I'm just gonna travel for a while, see the country."

"Okay, Mr. Spontaneity," Danneel mocks with a snort, but it's not unkindly. "You remember the last vacation we went on? Because I do, and I also remember how you spent a month researching everything we could do and places we could go and making a freaking schedule for every single day."

"It wasn't a month," Jensen tries to argue. "And maybe I'm a changed man."

"Right," Danneel says and then squints at him thoughtfully. "So. Where are you really going? Rehab?"

"For what?" Jensen asks, a little offended. 

"Coffee addiction?" Danneel suggests, glancing down at Jensen's Americano. Jensen pulls his cup a little closer to himself, cradling it between his hands.

"Fuck you," he says sweetly. "And I'm serious, Danni. I need to get out. I haven't written a single decent word in months. This city is driving me crazy. It's _stifling_ me."

Danneel sighs and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. "So, you think an aimless trip will fix all that?" she asks, more serious now.

A waiter walks past them, and Jensen gives him his best bland 'we're good' smile. "I hope so," he says. "And it's not aimless just because I don't have a destination."

"Oh god, please don't put _that_ in the books. That's the cheesiest, most cliché thing I've ever heard you say," Danneel says with a groan, but her lips are twitching up into a smile.

"You know, you're laughing now, but when I publish the _On the Road_ of the twenty-first century, you're gonna regret mocking me for this."

"I hate that book," Danneel points out.

Jensen glares at her, and Danneel deflates a little.

"Sweetheart," she says, her voice softer. "I get it. Break-ups are tough. They make us do crazy shit. Like dying your hair neon pink or, well, leaving the city. But some asshole with a small penis isn't worth uprooting your life for like that."

"It was probably average. I was drunk and mad at him when I said it was small," Jensen admits, smiling a little when Danneel cackles in reply. "It's not that, Danni. Not _just_ that. I've been feeling this way for a while now. Just... thought I had a reason to stay. Now I don't."

It's the truth and Jensen hates himself a little for it. He put his life on hold for a guy, invested so much in a relationship that was never all that great to begin with. Someone who was never as invested in him, in their relationship, as he was. But he liked being with someone, liked having someone, and Tom hadn't seemed like a bad guy. He was a bit boring, didn't excite Jensen, but he was nice and had his shit together. 

He was also fucking his secretary, but Jensen hadn't known that at the time. And so he’d settled, because making a life with someone seemed like the right thing to do, the _adult_ thing to do, and he didn't even notice how that life had smothered him until the whole thing fell apart.

"Are you sure?" Danneel asks.

"I want to see stuff, experience stuff," Jensen explains. "Real life, away from this city. I mean, shit, remember all the plans we made in college about seeing the world and then we never left, never did anything? This can't be all there is to life, right?"

"You've been on book tours," Danneel says. 

Jensen snorts. "Yeah. I've seen a bunch of hotels in different cities," he says. "We wanted to go on fucking _adventures_ , remember?"

Danneel shrugged. "I like this city," she says. "But I'm not you."

"Yeah."

"So. You're just going to leave and see where the road takes you?" Danneel asks. "Alone?"

"I'm a big boy, Danni."

"Yeah, you are," Danneel says with a small, teasing grin. "Okay, fine. I won't put up a fuss and I won't call your mother to make her talk you out of this. But you better check in with me every day... wait, you're not going to toss your cell phone out and do the whole 'back to the basics, forsaking all modern comforts' shit, right?"

"Fuck no," Jensen says and grimaces at the thought of leaving his phone behind. 

"Good," Danneel says. "If you abandon me, I need to at least be able to still send you pictures of my outfit choices when I go out. You're the only honest person in my life."

"You hate that about me."

"Only a little," Danneel says with a grin.

+

"I think that's a wonderful idea, Jensen," Misha says when Jensen tells him about his plans during their next meeting.

The words almost make him reconsider the whole trip.

Misha has been his agent for eight years, since the very first book Jensen published. He's a good guy, but he's also completely insane. If Misha thinks something is a good idea, the safest bet is usually to do the exact opposite. He knows his stuff when it comes to books though, and he was the only one willing to take on a young nobody like Jensen, forging contacts and helping Jensen build a name for himself. 

"You do?" Jensen asks, a little unsure.

"Yes! I've been telling you you need to do something different," Misha says, and Jensen winces a little thinking about all the things Misha has suggested he do over the past few months – both professionally and privately. 

"Danneel thinks it's a bit crazy."

"What does she know? I think it's great," Misha says. "Did I ever tell you about the time I traveled across the entire country on a bike?"

"Was that when you stayed in a weird sex commune for a week and caught chlamydia?" Jensen asks. 

Misha smiles serenely at him. "Good times," he says. 

"I don't think I'll be taking _that_ kind of trip," Jensen says. "I just want to see a bit more of the country. Get out of L.A."

"Well, we all gotta start small, I guess," Misha says with a little wink. "You'll see, Jensen. This trip will be good for you, I have a feeling about it."

And strangely enough, Jensen does, too, so for once he doesn't argue.

+

Jensen leaves L.A. on a sunny Saturday morning in mid-August.

He has a big backpack that's stuffed with all the essentials, most importantly a couple of empty notebooks and pens, and a sleeping bag strapped on top of it. He had to promise Danneel five times to check in every day and his mother expects a call from him every other day, too.

He doesn't pick a place, not even a direction. He simply has Danneel drop him off at a gas station a little outside of the city and then tries to catch a ride from there, his stomach fluttering with nerves.

He's never done this kind of thing before. Never hitchhiked, never gone anywhere without any plans. He's been in such a rut lately, and for the first time in months he feels a spark of exhilaration.

Standing by the side of the road and sticking his thumb out, Jensen feels hopeful.

+

The first person Jensen catches a ride with is Felicia, a bubbly red-head on her way from L.A. to Phoenix for a convention. There's a big box sitting on the back seat which she points at, her nails painted vibrant blue, when Jensen asks her about the convention.

"I cosplay. That's my costume," she says, with a wide, excited smile. "There'll be a bunch of cool panels, but that's the part I'm always most excited about."

"I hate dressing up," Jensen admits.

Felicia's expression gets even more animated at that. "It's not like dressing up for Halloween or something. I'm not me, dressed as a witch or whatever," she says. "It's so much more than that. When I cosplay, I become someone else – I'm no longer Felicia, who works at a record store and has a crappy apartment."

"You do it a lot? Cosplaying, I mean?" Jensen asks, genuinely curious. Felicia's enthusiasm is infectious. He feels a little bad about it, but he's already wondering if he could work this into a story. 

Jensen likes people who are passionate about something and he's always tried to write characters like that, too. Felicia seems like the kind of person who would work well in a novel – a little quirky, a little different, a lot likeable.

"As often as I can," Felicia admits. "I met a lot of friends through cosplaying, and these conventions are a good chance to meet up and hang out. But it's kinda expensive... you have no idea how much money goes into making a good costume!"

"You make them?" Jensen asks.

Felicia sends him a quick, proud grin. "Yeah," she says, and then starts rambling about finding the right supplies and her many misadventures in sewing, and Jensen finds himself pretty transfixed.

+

Felicia drops him off an hour outside of Phoenix, at the edge of a small town they pass through.

Jensen decided early on that he wants to avoid bigger cities on this trip. He wants to get to know rural America, the kind of people and places he wouldn't usually see. He already knows city life, has been to a lot of places on book tours before, and he's looking for something else. Something new.

He finds a motel for the night, and he feels pretty good about his plan as he sits at the small table in the room and pulls out a notebook. But the pages don't fill themselves as easily as he thought he would; a story doesn't magically unfold in front of him.

"It's your first day," he reminds himself when his eyes start to feel gritty and his excitement is slowly being replaced by frustration again.

There's time, he thinks. He'll figure it out eventually.

+

Over the next few days, Jensen meets a whole array of people.

There's Jeff, who Jensen is a little hesitant about getting in a car with. Jeff drives a big truck, wears all black, has tattoos and clunky silver rings. He's hot as hell, but at first glance Jensen isn't sure if he's the kind of guy who would ride them off into the sunset on a motorcycle – which, Jensen finds out he does own – or kill Jensen and bury his body in the desert. 

Turns out, though, Jeff is the kind of guy who lives on a farm with his wife and kid, rescuing strays and farm animals, and runs a candy shop. 

He takes Jensen all the way to the Texas border, and they chat easily the entire time. 

Jensen heads north to Colorado with Alaina the next day, who is on her way to Canada for a job interview. She offers to take him further, but six hours in a car with her are more than enough, because she keeps flirting with him no matter how many times Jensen tells her he's gay.

"It's the twenty-first century, sweetheart. Don't you know sexuality is just a social construct?" she says at one point.

Jensen gives her an awkward smile. "Well, guess I'm a slave to society," he says, but doubts society is responsible for how much he really, really likes dick.

+

Road-tripping isn't anything like Jensen suspected it would be.

He spends the next couple weeks crisscrossing the country. Not having a destination in mind makes hitchhiking a little easier, but it's still harder than he thought it would be. Sometimes he lucks out and doesn't have to wait for too long, but other times he spends what feels like hours on the side of some road, waiting for one of the passing cars to stop.

He spends his nights in random motels, exploring the small towns he finds himself in and trying to take it all in. The people, the small shops, anything local the places have to offer. 

The people he meets are interesting, different, and Jensen soaks up their stories, picks up on little details about every single one of them that end up in his notebook. But Jensen doesn't feel as inspired as he'd hoped he would.

He could build a character or two out of everyone he's met, but a story eludes him. His head isn't suddenly filled with ideas, and Jensen himself doesn't suddenly feel drastically different.

+

Jim is the kind of person Jensen expected to meet on the road all along. A little gruff, but happy to have some company for a while. His skin is tan and weathered, his beard a little unkempt, and the trucker hat he wears has seen better days. Under the grizzly exterior, there's a nice guy though, who opens up more and more as the hours pass.

He chews on a toothpick while he tells Jensen about his life. "I gave up smoking a few years ago. Having something to chew on helped," he explains. "Of course, now I can't fucking do anything without a toothpick between my damn teeth, but I guess at least that won't kill me."

Jensen asks him to drop him off an hour outside of Des Moines, in a sleepy little town called Hope, where Jim stops to get gas. It's late already, dusk falling.

"You wanna stay here?" Jim asks, voice gruff. "Are you sure kid?"

"Why not?" Jensen asks.

"This place gives me the creeps," Jim says. "Always has."

"You know the town?"

Jim shrugs. "I pass through here sometimes. I think you might be better off somewhere else."

"It looks fine," Jensen says. They passed through a few quiet but nice streets and the gas station looks just like any other one. Not pleasant, but not bad either.

"Your choice, kid… just stay out of the fucking woods, okay?" Jim says with a weary sigh.

Jensen nods, though the warning leaves him a little puzzled. It sounds ominous, but Jensen can't think of what could possibly be bad about this town. Maybe, he thinks, Jim is a bit more nuts than he thought.

+

Jim's words stay with Jensen and it's making him feel a little uneasy.

The walk from the gas station to the town isn't very far, but he has to walk right along the edge of the forest the town is nestled in. Jensen keeps his phone in his hand, just in case, even though the reception is so bad he doubts any call he made would go through.

Nearing the town, Jensen spies a phone booth on the side of the road, just before the first cluster of houses start. Jensen hopes his reception will get better once he's in town, but just in case it's not he decides to make a quick call to Danneel to let her know where he is. It's getting darker, and Jensen has this feeling in the pit of his stomach, this need to hear a familiar voice.

"Why aren't you calling me from your cell?" Danneel asks after the greeting.

"The reception sucks here," Jensen says.

"Wow, that doesn't sound like the start of a horror movie at all," Danneel says, amusement coloring her voice. "Where the fuck are you?"

"Hope, Iowa," Jensen says. "It's a small town."

"And how's that going for you?"

"Fine," Jensen says. He glances around, and he thinks he sees something from the corner of his eye, by the edge of the forest behind him. His heart speeds up in his chest, and he tells himself he's just being crazy, that he shouldn't let Jim's words get to him. 

Even if there's something there, it's probably just an animal – a stray cat or bird or whatever the hell lives in the woods in freaking Iowa.

"Jensen?"

"Right here," Jensen says. "So, uh, how's L.A.? Anything new?"

Danneel laughs, the sound so familiar and carefree Jensen feels a pang of longing for her. "Dude, you won't believe who I ran into," she starts. 

Jensen hums. "Who?" he asks, and as Danneel launches into her story, Jensen feels himself calm down a little, Danneel's voice rushing over him. He listens to her tell him about running into one of her ex-boyfriends at the grocery store and going for a coffee with him and then ending up at her place. 

"Danneel," he starts, about to tell her how bad an idea hooking up with her ex is, when he sees it. Two spots of red, glowing in the darkness of the forest. 

Eyes.

They definitely look like freaking eyes.

"Shit," Jensen yelps.

"Jensen? Everything okay?"

Jensen wants to say something, to tell her. The words are on the tip of his tongue, but then he blinks and the red lights are gone. And what can he say anyway? Even if Danneel believes him, doesn't think he's crazy, she's miles and miles away. And maybe Jensen should get away from that creepy fucking forest already.

"Everything's fine," he lies – again. "Just… running low on minutes here. Damn pay phone. Uh, listen, I should get going and find a room for the night."

"Okay," Danneel says, slowly.

"Maybe I'll have better reception in town," Jensen adds. "I'll text you, okay?"

"Yeah," Danneel agrees. "You take good care of yourself, you hear?"

"Yeah. And you stop sleeping with your exes," Jensen says, and Danneel makes an indignant sound. "Bye, Danni."

He hangs up the second she says goodbye and then picks up his bag from the ground. 

Jensen takes a final look at the forest, but there's nothing there now. No lights, no movement. 

He still walks a little bit faster, and breathes a sigh of relief when he reaches the first buildings of the town.

+

There's nothing remotely sinister looking about Hope. In fact, it seems like an absolutely non-descriptive town, a bit boring even and Jensen feels himself calm down as he asks the first person he meets about a place to have dinner.

The diner he ends up in is small and old, but not shabby – the kind of place he thinks he's had dinner in pretty much every night since he left L.A.

Jensen smiles politely at the waitress when she sets the burger he ordered down in front of him. 

"Can I get you anything else?" she asks, her voice sounding absolutely void of any emotions. Jensen thinks she should be chewing gum and blowing bubbles boredly, just to complete the picture.

"Actually, yeah," he says. "I'm just passing through town and I heard this story. About something being in the woods around here. You know anything about that?"

"Uh, like, wildlife?" she asks.

"No. No, like… creepy stuff," he says. "I mean, I thought I saw something earlier…"

Katherine, according to her name tag, frowns down at him. "Okay, crazy," she mutters under her breath. 

Jensen can't even really blame her.

"Not that I believe in it," he quickly adds. "I'm just… into those kinda stories. I'm a writer."

"Right, buddy," she says, her tone condescending. "Well, I can't help you with that kinda stuff."

"Okay," Jensen says, trying to keep his smile polite.

Katherine's smile is wide and insincere, before she turns away. "Fucking shouldn't have moved here for some fucking dude, just like my parents told me," she mutters to herself, and Jensen briefly wonders what her story is, though he sure as hell isn't going to ask her about it.

He tries not to think any more about what he saw, or thought he saw, and starts eating his dinner. Jim's words probably just made his imagination run wild. Jensen always had a knack of making things up in his head, always making up stories. It's why he wanted to become a writer and probably also why nobody in his family was surprised, even though his mother confessed to him once that she really thought he'd never be able make a living from it.

+

There's a cute, small bed and breakfast that one of the other waitresses, who seems much more approachable than Katherine, recommends to him and Jensen gets a room there. It's a quaint little place with just a few rooms that are lovingly kept.

There's a desk in his room, a sturdy, pretty thing that Jensen sits down at the moment he's put his things away. But no words come to him and after a solid thirty minutes of trying but failing to make himself write, he gives up.

He shoots Danneel a quick text and then changes into a shirt that doesn't look too crinkled and heads out. The elderly woman at the reception desk recommends two bars to him when he asks her about places to go – the only two bars in town – and Jensen picks the one that's closer to the bed and breakfast.

It's a Wednesday night, so the bar is pretty much dead. There's a group of elderly guys sitting at a table, drinking beer; what Jensen assumes is a couple by the way they're leaning towards each other at another; and a few people sitting at the bar.

Jensen picks one of the empty stools there and orders whatever is on tap when the barkeeper wanders over. The guy slides a bowl of peanuts over to him as well.

Jensen sips his beer, texting back and forth with Danneel a little. When the bartender places his second beer down in front of him, Jensen finally gets up the courage to ask about the woods again.

He's pretty much convinced himself that there was really nothing there, but it's hard not to think about it. He just needs one more person to tell him there's nothing here to worry about, and then he thinks he can lay it to rest.

"This guy who dropped me off," he starts when he's got the bartender's attention, "he told me to keep out of the woods. That there's something in there or whatever."

He makes it sound like that's clearly crazy, his voice light.

The bartender laughs. "Oh, yeah," he says. "That old urban legend about the monster."

"There's really an urban legend?" Jensen prods. "'Cause I asked the waitress at the diner about it and she seemed to think I was crazy."

"Must have been Kat, right? She's been here for a few months. She thinks everyone in town in crazy," the bartender says, shaking his head almost fondly, strands of blond hair falling into his face. Jensen wonders if there's a story there, if this could be the guy Katherine moved here for. For his sake, Jensen hopes he's not, because Katherine didn't sound all too thrilled about being here.

"So, the monster," he prompts.

"Some people claim to have seen something, but you know how those things are. If you ask me, weirdest thing living in the woods is Jared and that's about it."

"Jared," Jensen repeats.

The bartender grins and nods his head to something further down at the bar. "Jared," he repeats.

Jensen turns his head, looking toward where the bartender nodded, and finds a guy sitting at the end of the bar. He's pretty sure he wasn't there when Jensen got here, or he would have noticed. There's no fucking way Jensen would have missed a guy like that.

Even sitting down, he looks tall, his long legs spread almost awkwardly. He's got dark, messy hair that's hiding half of his face, but his profile is still pretty damn nice to look at, and Jensen feels a pull of want when his eyes follow the line of his biceps, down his arms all the way to his hands – big hands with long fingers, cradling a beer glass and making it look almost small.

Jensen knows he's staring, and he flushes a little when the guy suddenly lifts his head and meets his eyes. But to his surprise _Jared_ just gives him a small smile and a nod that's a little unsure, but not unfriendly. 

Jensen smiles back, as confidently as he can, and lifts his glass in acknowledgment. He swears Jared blushes, looking a little flustered in the dim light of the bar, and that's all the cue Jensen needs to get up and move the few stools down the bar to Jared's side.

+

If Jared really is the scariest thing in those woods, then the last thing Jensen is is deterred.

And maybe that's the alcohol speaking – it's certainly helping him feel good and lose and a little less inhibited than he usually would– but Jared is incredibly hot and yet _cute_. He seems a little shy at first, ducking his head a lot and fiddling with a coaster, but the more they talk, the more confident he seems to get.

He really does live in the woods, in a little cottage his grandfather built, and he works from home. When Jensen tells him he's a writer, he gets all excited, rambling about a book he's read recently that sounds suspiciously like a Harlequin novel.

He stops himself abruptly though, lowering his head, some of his early shyness returning. "Sorry. That's probably not the kinda stuff you're into."

"And what do you think I'm into?" Jensen asks.

"Oh. You know, the good stuff. The important stuff," Jared says a little sheepishly. 

Jensen grins. "Nah, I like anything," he says. "As long as it means something to someone."

"Yeah," Jared says, and the smile that forms on his lips is a little hesitant at first, but then it gets wider. Beautiful.

And maybe Jensen's had a few too many beers, but he's transfixed, staring at the sweet curve of Jared's lips and the dimples carved into his cheeks.

+

"Off," Jensen says, fingers tugging impatiently at the hem of Jared's shirt. He doesn't break the kiss, just mumbles the words right into Jared's mouth and hopes he gets the message.

They held off until they made it up the stairs to the second floor of the bed and breakfast before Jensen pulled Jared into a rough kiss and ended up being pressed into a wall. For all of Jared's shyness, there's nothing shy about the way he kisses Jensen, the way his hands roam his body and push and pull. 

And Jensen has absolutely no complaints about that. It'd never been like that with Tom – Tom was always so restrained, never wild and passionate. Never making Jensen feel like he's spinning out of control, wanton and needy and so turned on, the way Jared is making him feel right now.

He was right about how tall Jared is, too – a good three or four inches taller than Jensen, and Jensen has to tip his head up as they kiss, has to lean up into it, get up onto his tiptoes, and Jensen loves that. Jared isn't just tall though – he's strong too, all broad shoulders and hands that grip Jensen tightly as they kiss. And god, can he kiss. 

They tumble into Jensen's room, tugging and pulling at each other, and when the door falls shut behind them and Jared pushes him into the wall, their bodies pressed together, Jensen thinks he could come just from this. Just from Jared's mouth on his and his hands sliding under Jensen's shirt and the hot, heavy weight of Jared's body pinning him into the wall.

"Please. Can I… can I," Jared eventually mumbles, as he sucks kisses down Jensen's throat, and Jensen can feel the hard outline of his dick against him, can feel how big and thick he feels. He's pretty sure Jared could ask him for anything in that moment, and he'd say yes. 

"Yeah," he agrees, and Jared pulls away with a sharp breath. He tugs his t-shirt off in one smooth motion, revealing tan, golden skin and muscles, and Jensen really just wants to stare at him forever.

"Fuck, you’re hot," he says, and Jared flushes. 

Somehow that just makes him hotter. All this beauty, and he doesn't even seem to realize it. Doesn't seem to know what to do with being complimented, like he's not used to it, and that can't be true.

And then, as if he isn't already every single one of Jensen's fantasies come to life, Jared gracefully sinks down onto his knees.

+

Jared's mouth is hot and wet, and his fingers are digging bruises into Jensen's hips as he sucks him down. His hold keeps Jensen firmly in place, and Jensen likes it. God, does he like it.

Jared is big and strong, and even down on his knees for Jensen, there's no doubt that he's the one in control. He sets the pace, keeps things slow at first, teasing, the helpless thrusts of Jensen's hips futile in Jared's sure grasp. And that makes it better, makes it more than good. Jared feels amazing around him, taking him in and sucking and licking and humming, and it doesn't take long before he has Jensen on the edge of coming.

He doesn't though. Jared doesn't let him. He always pulls back just before it's too late, allows Jensen to calm down enough just to stave off the orgasm, before he goes back in, until Jensen is panting and moaning, brokenly begging Jared.

He tangles his fingers in Jared's long hair, hips twitching. "Oh fuck, _please_ ," he spits out.

Jared pulls back, and Jensen blinks down at him, his vision a little blurry. Jared's lips are pink and spit-slick, his cheeks flushed, and Jensen is pretty sure he's never seen a more beautiful, arousing thing in his life.

"I wanna fuck you," Jared says, his voice raspy, and then adds in a voice that's quieter, more hesitant, "Can I?"

Just the thought is almost too much. Jensen moans out a broken yes, nodding his head up and down, his fingers twisting in Jared's hair.

"Fuck yeah," he groans and hisses when Jared puts his mouth back on him. He adds two fingers in alongside Jensen's cock, before he trails them down between Jensen's legs, sliding back wetly. 

The first touch of Jared's fingers has Jensen tense up for a second. It's been a while.

Tom was the last guy he was with, and even before they broke up their sex life hadn't been stellar. Tom hadn't been very interested and his lack of interest hadn't exactly made Jensen want to push for more. And he hasn't been with anyone since, hasn't done much more than jerk off in the shower on his own either. He hasn't wanted to, hasn't felt right since. But Jared makes his blood boil in a way nobody else has in a while – the combination of hot and enthralling and yet unassuming that gets right to him. Makes him want to let Jared do whatever he wants, give him anything, for one night of mindless fun.

Which is why Jensen's hesitation only lasts for a split second, and then he widens his stance and tries to relax as Jared starts to press one finger in. His mouth distracts Jensen, takes away some of the initial weirdness of Jared pushing in, working him open, and then heightens the pleasure of it, the wet warmth of his mouth and the twist of his long, clearly talented fingers inside of him making Jensen's toes curl.

Two fingers, brushing against his prostate as Jared opens him up, and Jensen is finally done. He comes with a hoarse cry, barely managing to warn Jared before he spills down his throat.

He collapses back against the wall, and Jared pulls off him slowly, licking him clean.

"Sorry, sorry," Jensen mumbles.

Jared makes a small noise. "Fuck no," he says and kisses Jensen's hip, his belly. "That was so hot."

He gets up slowly, Jensen's hands falling from his hair to his shoulders. Jensen's the one who came, but Jared looks all flushed and disheveled, good enough that Jensen wants more. Wants everything.

He tugs Jared in and arches up to press their lips together in a kiss that's a little sloppy, a little hazy, but Jared doesn't seem to mind. He kisses back enthusiastically, and Jensen can feel the press of his hard cock against his belly, his own starting to take interest again.

The night is nowhere near over yet.

+

If Jensen thought Jared was good with his mouth and fingers, there are no words for how good it feels when Jared fucks him.

Sex with Tom must have been even less good than he thought, because there's no way a one-night-stand with a stranger should be this mind-blowing. But damn if it isn't amazing.

There's something about the way Jared kisses him, touches him, that sparks something inside of Jensen. A chemistry between them that makes for pretty damn spectacular sex.

"Too much?" Jared murmurs when he starts pushing into Jensen. He's big – long and thick, stretching Jensen open around him, and it burns in the most delicious way. It makes everything else fade away, makes Jensen stop thinking about anything but the feeling of Jared pushing into him, inch by inch.

"More," he encourages, tightening his legs around Jared's slim hips, one of his heels digging into Jared's ass, making Jared sink in the last few inches. "Fuck. _Fuck_."

The words are broken, said around a moan, his muscles clenching up for a brief moment at the sensation. It's not bad, but it's a lot, overwhelming almost.

Jared lets out a soft, almost quiet grunt and leans down, catching Jensen's mouth in a deep kiss. 

He starts moving when they break apart. Slowly at first, as if he's testing things, small swivels of his hips that make his cock barely slide in and out. Jensen moans encouragingly, and he grabs Jared by the biceps as Jared's thrusts get broader, digs his fingers in and holds on.

Jared settles on a rhythm, moving his hips smoothly, and it's not the kind of fast and dirty fuck Jensen expected from a hook-up. The drag of Jared's cock inside of him sparks new pleasure with each thrust, leaving him breathless. Jared fills him so good, over and over, fucking into him until Jensen is arching and gasping under him.

The pleasure builds, coils deep inside of Jensen until he feels like he's about to burst. He lets go of one of Jared's arms to wrap his hand around his cock, and it doesn't take more than a handful of strokes before he comes with a cry. It's hard and fast, rushing over him.

Jared kisses him again then, muffles the sounds he's making with his lips. Through the haze of his own pleasure, Jensen feels Jared's rhythm falter, feels him shudder above him.

+

"Just toss it aside," Jensen says when Jared makes a move to get up, the used condom held awkwardly between his fingers.

"Oh. Okay," Jared says, and Jensen isn't sure how the hell he can sound shy when he just blew Jensen's mind like that, but it's kind of endearing.

Still feeling buzzed and a little dazed, Jensen shifts closer to Jared. "Unless you wanted to leave," he adds, and presses a kiss to Jared's collarbone, then to his throat. 

"Not if you don't want me to?"

"Well, in that case, I think you should stay," Jensen says and tips his head back, giving Jared a small smirk. "And fuck me again once I've caught my breath."

"Yeah?" Jared asks, cheeks going pink.

"Yeah," Jensen says and angles his face up for a kiss.

+

Jensen wakes up to the sun on his face and Jared's hot body plastered against his back. It's a little too warm, but Jensen doesn't mind, enjoys the feeling of waking up wrapped in someone's arms again.

He shifts carefully, not wanting to dislodge Jared just yet. His body is a little sore, but it's the kind of soreness that sends small sparks of pleasure through him and makes his stomach dip as he thinks about last night.

Jensen didn't think about finding someone to hook up with when he left L.A. He thought his latest break-up had managed to put him off guys for a while, that he needed a breather from dating, and he's pleasantly surprised by how good it was to go home with someone, to just let go and enjoy himself. And have really amazing sex, the kind that's so damn good it might just have ruined him for other guys.

The kind that's so damn good, Jensen doesn't even mind if that turns out to be true.

"Morning," Jared says into his ear. His voice is soft, but not sleepy, and Jensen's a little surprised he's awake. The way they're lying, the way Jared is holding him, isn't what he'd expect from a one-night-stand, and he thinks maybe it's a little weird that Jared apparently didn't pull away when he woke up. But Jensen tried not to dislodge him just moments ago, so he's not one to speak. It's just… nice. He feels nice, like this, with Jared, even if he is pretty much a complete stranger.

"Morning," Jensen says back. 

Jared smoothes his hand down Jensen's stomach from where it's been resting against his chest, settling low on his belly. "Are you leaving town today?" he asks, almost gently, and brushes his mouth over the curve of Jensen's shoulder.

The yes is on the tip of Jensen's tongue. That was the plan after all – stay for one night, then get back on the road. There are people out there for him to meet, stories to listen to, things to experience. There are books to be written, and Jensen really needs to stop allowing guys to derail him.

But Jared isn't Tom. And this thing between them isn't a relationship.

So maybe it's time Jensen stopped sticking so vehemently to all his plans, to map out his life. Danneel seems to think Jensen is incapable of being spontaneous, and clearly she thinks that's a bad thing. And one day can't hurt.

"Why don't you try to convince me to stay for another day?" he asks.

+

Jared does convince him and they spend the day mostly in bed, only leaving it to take a shower and get some food.

They have sex and nap and have some more sex and nap again. They talk, too – they tease and flirt, and by some unspoken agreement they keep their conversations light. They don't get into anything too deep.

And yet, when Jensen gathers his things to leave the next morning, there's a tiny voice in his head that wonders if things could have been different. If they could have been more, if they'd met under different circumstances, at a different time in a different place.

But they didn't. 

And so Jensen kisses Jared goodbye. 

"Thanks for the great time, stranger," he says, and Jared gives him a look he can't decipher before hauling him back in for another kiss.

+

Rob isn't very talkative, kind of awkward, but Jensen doesn't mind. He has great taste in music and so when their initial conversation tapers off soon after Jensen gets into Rob's car, he doesn't push for more. He sits back, relaxes, and watches the world outside the window pass them by.

He tries not to think about what he's leaving behind. He doesn't really know Jared, but it feels like he left an imprint anyway. Jensen knows it'll fade though – but for now, he can still feel him all over. Feel the ghost of Jared's bruising kisses, of his hands on his body, of his mouth kissing and sucking and biting him all over, of his cock filling him and leaving an ache deep inside of him.

Jared, he suspects, is someone he will always look back at fondly.

Driving farther and farther away from Hope, Jensen's thoughts stray to his writing and he wonders if Jared is someone he could write about. He wants to – wants to capture him in words, his beauty and intoxicating appeal. But there's no way he could write a word about the guy and not make it dirty.

The idea makes him snort a little, and Rob shoots him a funny look. Knowing Misha, he'd probably be excited about Jensen writing about this experience, and he'd probably find a way to market it too.

+

"You know, I could use a pair of helping hands around the farm if you're interested," the guy Jensen hitches a ride with a couple of days later says.

Chris drives a huge truck, wears a cowboy hat and has his hair tied back in a small bun. He reminds Jensen of the kind of guys he'd been friends with in school, back home in Texas, and he's oddly charmed by it. Chris seems a little gruff, masculine in the way that seems like he's trying a little too hard, but Jensen gets the impression Chris is entirely aware of that and doesn't mind being that guy. 

"I'm not really looking for a job," Jensen says.

"And I'm not looking to employ you," Chris says. "But I never turn down help and you're looking for something. A place to crash for the night at the very least, right?"

"Yeah," Jensen agrees, and that's how he ends up at Chris's farm.

Chris doesn't make him muck out any stalls or anything, thank god, but Jensen helps him unload a whole truck-bed full of supplies, haul bales of hay up into the hayloft, and mend a broken fence. 

They reheat leftover stew for dinner that's pretty damn good. Chris offers him a spare bedroom, but Jensen picks the hayloft because he likes the idea of having his own space for the night even if there's no electricity and he'll have to trudge back to the main house if he needs the bathroom. But crashing in a hayloft, in a bed made out of a whole armful of blankets that Chris gave him, seems kind of exciting – as far from L.A. as he can imagine, and that's all Jensen wants right now.

He beds down and messes around on his phone a little, typing up some half-hearted notes, but he's feeling too tired to really do much. So he puts his phone down and turns onto his side, pulling the two layers of blankets up over his shoulder.

He's just closed his eyes when he hears a crash and his eyes snap back open.

For a split second he sees it – two glowing red lights, _eyes_ , down on the ground floor of the barn that he can partially overlook from the hayloft. And then they're gone, just like the last time, back in Hope.

"What," Jensen gasps and fumbles for his phone and sits up. 

The locked screen – a photo of him and Danneel – doesn't provide a lot of light, but it's better than nothing. 

"Hello? Chris?" he calls out. He moves his phone around, but the radius of the light isn't enough to let him see anything down in the barn.

"Anyone there?" he tries again and then goes quiet, listening. There's a rustling noise, right next to him, and Jensen lets out a small cry when something jumps onto his legs. 

And then meows.

"Oh god," Jensen sighs and lets the light of his phone shine onto the cat on his lap. It's big, grayish-brown, looking at him with wide eyes. "Fuck, you scared me."

The cat meows again, and Jensen puts a hand on his head – and he might not be male, but by the sheer size of him, Jensen assumes he is. The fur is silky under his fingers, and strokes his fingers down to his back. The cat purrs.

"You like that, buddy?" he asks. He continues to pat the cat, he keeps purring and then pushes up into Jensen's touch.

"Just don't scare me like that again, okay?" he asks, and hopes the cat understands. After a few moments, when his heartbeat has calmed down again, Jensen puts his phone aside and lies down again.

The cat moves then, and ends up curled against Jensen's chest. 

"Okay," Jensen says with a quiet laugh. His eyes stray to where he knows the hayloft ends, down into the barn, but he can see nothing but darkness.

"You wanna stay with me?" he asks, and shifts his hand back to the cat. He strokes him gently, not minding the warm weight against him. There's something comforting about it, having another living being curled up against him making him feel safer, calmer. "Okay, you can stay."

+

Jensen stays at the farm for another day, because Chris hints that he can really use the help and Jensen finds himself enjoying the manual labor. It's not something he can see himself doing for a living, but it's a nice break from writing. It feels _real_. Like a glimpse into the kind of life other people, people outside of L.A., lead.

And Chris is a fun person to be around. Under the macho exterior is a really nice guy, and Jensen enjoys listening to him talk about farm life and the band he's in and plays gigs with in the pubs around the area. 

"Used to dream about going to L.A.," he confesses, while they fix an old car together that used to belong to Chris's grandfather. "Be an actor or singer. Just… something, you know? But I guess everyone dreams about that."

"You're something here," Jensen says kindly and shrugs. "L.A. isn't all that it's cracked up to be."

"No?"

"Nah," Jensen says. 

"Why are you living in L.A. then?" Chris asks, and Jensen doesn't know how to answer that question.

"You don't have to, right? I mean, not that I know anything about that kinda stuff, but I imagine as a writer you could be based anywhere."

"I guess I could be, yeah," Jensen agrees, and Chris gives him a small smile.

+

After dinner, Jensen shares a couple of beers with Chris out on the porch and, looking at the wide expanse of Chris's land, with the sun setting at the horizon, Jensen ponders if he really should leave L.A.

Maybe he could move to a place like this one. Somewhere quiet and peaceful, untouched by the craziness of Hollywood. He'd miss Danneel like crazy, but the more he thinks about it, the more he thinks Danneel would be the only thing he'd truly miss.

Taking a sip of his beer, he sighs. Something brushes against his leg, and he looks down to see a cat there. It's smaller than the one that visited him up in the hayloft the night before – and slept curled up against him all night, until the wee hours of the morning. This one is gray and striped, with green eyes that glint up at him.

"What are their names?"

"Huh?" Chris asks.

"Your cats," Jensen says. "One of them kept me company last night. Big bruiser of a cat, brownish. But pretty damn cuddly."

Chris snorts. "Uh, barn cat number five?"

"Really?" Jensen huffs.

"Might be four or six, who the hell knows," Chris says and smirks. "You think I keep track of them? They keep the mice away, and get free range over the farm in return, except for the house."

Jensen frowns a little. "Man, that's cold."

"You'd let all of them sleep on your bed, wouldn't you?" Chris asks and laughs. "Fine, if I see a big, brown cat, I'll call him Buddy, okay? You happy now?"

"Kinda," Jensen says, and bends down to pet the cat that's still worming its way around his legs. "And you, princess? You want a name, too?"

"Buddy and Princess," Chris mutters, sounding amused. "Why'd I ever let you step foot onto my farm?"

+

The brown cat is curled up on his blankets when Jensen makes his way up to the hayloft that night, and he laughs a little when he sees him.

"Hey, Buddy," he says, and the cat meows.

"Maybe I should get a cat," Jensen muses and sits down on the blankets, hand reaching out to pat Buddy. "Too bad I can't take you back home with me, Bud."

The cat looks at him with pretty green-blue eyes and butts his head into Jensen's hand and Jensen can't help but think how nice that would be. A cat like Buddy to sleep curled up against him, keep him company, make his apartment feel a little less empty, less quiet.

+

Chris drives him to the next town the next morning and they exchange numbers before they part.

"If you ever do make it to L.A.," Jensen says as he types his number into Chris's phone and Chris laughs.

"Well, if everyone there is as pretty as you, I might have to," he teases. 

Jensen grins back and for the second time in a few days, he feels kinda bummed about having to say goodbye to someone. 

Richard, the guy he hitches a ride with, seems a little crazy, rambling about his big plans to take Hollywood by storm when Jensen tells him he's from L.A., so he asks to be dropped off after just a couple of hours.

He next ride is with a gorgeous blonde named Briana, who is sweet and funny. She's on her way to a friend's wedding, and Jensen enjoys talking to her, but there's nothing there that sparks any inspiration in him. He feels bad about judging people by that, but it's why he went on the road trip, and he can't let go of that completely, can't help but wonder how to turn everyone he meets into a character in one of his novels and build a story around them.

Genevieve, who he rides with for five hours the next day, is much more promising. She's tiny but feisty, voicing her opinions on politics and society and then going into a twenty minute rant about why the world needs feminism. Jensen thinks he could write about someone like her – the tiny, almost delicate frame and pretty face, and the unapologetic attitude she has.

"I mean, if one more guy tells me women and men are equal and what the hell am I on about, I'm going to get homicidal," she says and huffs. "If I didn't like dick so much, I'd probably start a female commune."

"Would gay guys be allowed?" Jensen jokes.

Genevieve cuts him a look. "Yeah. Maybe, if you're not a dick you can come," she allows, and Jensen laughs.

She should meet Danneel, he decides. They would probably make the world implode.

+

"You have anything to send me yet?" Misha asks, excited when Jensen calls him a few days later, from a motel outside of Plainview, Texas.

"Uh, not yet," Jensen says and glances at the small table in the corner of the room. His laptop is open, a blank document opened, and there are pages of notes scattered around the table. 

"Not even a little preview? A snippet?" Misha pushes.

"I'm working on it," Jensen promises, even though he feels nowhere near closer to writing another novel than he did when he left. He has notes upon notes with impressions of the people he's met, the towns he's been in, but no story yet. 

"Well, no pressure and all that, but don't take your precious time," Misha says. "Your adoring fans are awaiting your next masterpiece, Jensen."

Jensen snorts. "Whatever, man," he says. "Creativity knows no timeframe."

"No, but bills do. Mine and yours," Misha says. "So chop, chop. Get to work."

"I'm trying," Jensen says.

"Are you saying you haven't seen anything that's inspired you yet? Anything that left an impression?"

The thought that flits through Jensen's mind isn't something he could possibly put down into words and he's glad Misha isn't around to see him blush. "No," he chokes out, and Misha hums.

"You will, Jensen. I just know it," he says sagely.

+

In Booneville, Mississippi, Jensen catches a glimpse of the red eyes again as he ducks out of a bar.

"You're going crazy," he mutters, shivering even though it's not cold. 

He calls a cab, and back at the motel, he makes sure the door is firmly locked behind him.

+

The thing about hitchhiking is that it's not always easy. Sometimes he gets lucky, other times it takes forever until he finds someone willing to give him a ride.

Jensen's glad he's not in a hurry to get somewhere, that it doesn't matter if he has to wait thirty minutes or a couple of hours until someone stops for him. But it can get boring. He doesn't really have much on himself other than his phone and laptop to entertain him, and in the middle of nowhere, with nowhere to charge them, he keeps the laptop in his backpack and the phone in his pocket. 

He can only entertain himself for so long at gas stations though, and even trying to take notes in the notepad he packed gets boring after a while. So sometimes, he'll just pick a direction and start walking. If nobody stops to give him a ride, he figures he can somehow make it to a nearby town and try again the next day.

One of those days, when the sun gets too hot and Jensen starts feeling exhausted after just an hour of walking, he finds a tree to sit under. His phone is pretty much fully charged still and he has a portable battery in his backpack, just in case, too, so he gets comfortable and texts Danneel.

 _You're still alive!_ , Danneel texts back after a few moments, as if they didn't talk just the day before.

_Yes. Idiot._

_How are things? Any new sexcapades to share?_

Danneel's text makes Jensen roll his eyes. _No,_ he types out. _Shut up. It was one time._

_And you haven't been able to shut up about it since._

It's not exactly a lie. Though, to be fair, Danneel likes to bring it up, make Jensen share all the details of his night – and day and second night – with Jared.

 _Shut up_ , Jensen texts back again. He leans back against the trunk of the tree, stretching his legs out. There are a few bees buzzing around him, and while he waits for a new message from Danneel, he watches them flit around from one flower to the next. A bumblebee flies past him so closely, it almost brushes him. It's big and round, flying a lot less elegantly than the other bees, but flying nonetheless, and Jensen wonders how the hell it manages to keep its fluffy, round body up in the air with wings so tiny. 

For a second, he feels a flash of envy. Life must be so carefree for it, just buzzing around from flower to flower.

"Christ, you're getting morose, Ackles," Jensen mutters, and he's glad when his phone vibrates in his hand with another text.

+

Jensen decides to hole himself up at a cabin a few days later to actually get some writing done. There's no point to this whole trip if he doesn't, and Jensen is starting to feel impatient. And maybe he expected too much. Maybe he thought he'd hitch a few rides, meet some people and see new places, and his mind would be filled with ideas, bubbling with inspiration.

Maybe he expected a quick fix for whatever rut he's been stuck in. 

The fact that it's not happening like he'd hoped it would is frustrating, making him feel impatient. But he's trying not to obsess over it, not to need to be in control, because creativity doesn't work like that. He _knows_ that.

But he figures giving his mind a little push, making himself sit down and write as much as he can, can't hurt. Even if no story comes to him, if everything he writes lacks a plot, it's nice to take breaks from traveling to put words down onto paper.

He reads through everything he's written so far, and he tries to think about what he can do with what he has. If any of the people he has met can turn into a story. But it feels like he's just gotten glimpses of everyone, things he can fit into a story but aren't stories in themselves. 

He used to be good at that – taking the littlest thing and building a whole world around it. Jensen misses that. Misses writing, creating something that's longer than a few paragraphs. The rush of excitement and the way it calmed him down at the same time, made him feel at peace. 

He used to joke that writing was the cheapest form of therapy, that there was nothing he couldn't fix in his life by writing about it. But he took it for granted, thought it was something he could always depend on, that no matter what life threw at him he had his writing, so he'd be okay. And he just wants to be that guy again – the one that spends hours at his laptop, filling pages and pages, just letting the words flow freely. 

He can't even blame Tom for the state of mind he's in right now. Tom might have cheated, but he didn't force Jensen to settle for a relationship that didn't excite him. To live in a city he doesn't like. To give up on all his youthful dreams of seeing the world, of going on adventures. Jensen did that to himself. 

He just needs something to bring back the guy he used to be, he thinks. Something to spark that excitement in him again, to put a thousand ideas in his head and make him dream. 

Grabbing a beer, Jensen goes to sit outside on the wrap-around porch of the cabin. It's almost full-moon, and Jensen sits back and stares up into the sky. There's a bat that flies around the cabin, flitting in and out of Jensen's view.

Jensen finishes his beer, and then another and another, and it makes him feel worse instead of better, but he keeps drinking. He's quite buzzed by the time he makes it back inside, stumbling a little.

Inside the small bedroom, he strips out of his clothes ungracefully, feeling too warm suddenly. He goes to crack the window open, and he stops when he sees something outside the window, flashing out of view before he can make it out.

Jensen freezes for a second, then he laughs. "You're drunk, you idiot," he mumbles, and turns, stumbling straight towards his bed, leaving the window closed.

+

The next morning, when Jensen leaves the cabin, his backpack slung over his shoulders, there's a loud rustling to his right. He looks, and he sees something duck out of view. A stray dog, he thinks, or maybe some kind of wildlife. He vaguely remembers the night before then, remembers seeing something outside the window.

He takes a deep breath, his stomach feeling tight, and speeds up his steps a little.

+

"What the fuck, dude!"

The words are spoken loudly. Jensen rolls his lower lip between his teeth, thinks about just going back into his motel room, but the raised voice is what drew him out in the first place, the sound of a scuffle unmistakable.

He pulls his door closed and rounds the corner of the motel, his room the last one of the long line of rooms.

"Hey, everything--" he starts, but the words die on his lips.

There's a burly guy who has another guy backed up against the wall. Jared. The other guy, tall with dark hair falling into his eyes, is _Jared_.

They both turn toward him, and Jared ducks his head immediately.

"I caught this creep looking into one of the rooms through the window. He's been hovering around here for a while," the other guy spits out, giving Jared a rough shove that has him thumping back into the wall.

"I was just..." Jared tries. "I was..."

"What? Huh? Perving on people? Spying?"

Jared cuts Jensen another look, eyes wide and pleading and Jensen's heart is thudding loudly in his chest. 

"He was looking for me," Jensen says, even as his stomach twists unpleasantly.

"Huh?" the guy says.

"We wanted to meet up here, but he didn't have my room number," Jensen says, and the guy slowly lets go of Jared, looking hesitant as he steps back.

"Could have called you instead of acting like a creep," the guy mutters, shaking his head.

"Phone's been turned off," Jensen says with a forced smile. "Sorry, Jared."

He looks at Jared, but Jared has his head ducked down, eyes on the ground. "'s okay," he mumbles.

The guy huffs, but he seems satisfied with the explanation. 

"Let's go to my room," Jensen suggests to Jared, and he isn't sure why he's saying it. Why he isn't running for the hills, because Jared is here. _Jared is here_. And maybe there's a good explanation for that, but Jensen really doubts it, and that _is_ creepy as hell. 

Jared follows Jensen, and once they're in the room, Jensen moves to the other side of it quickly, holding his phone up for Jared to see. "Okay, you try anything weird, I'm calling the fucking cops."

"I'm not…" Jared starts, looking utterly dejected, his shoulders slumped. "I'm _not_. I swear."

"What the hell are you doing here, Jared?" Jensen demands.

Jared stays where he is, at the other side of the room, and glances at Jensen before looking away. "I… can explain."

"What? That you're stalking me?"

Jared's mouth twists into a frown, but he doesn't argue, and Jensen's stomach drops.

"Fuck, you're _stalking_ me."

"It's not what you think," Jared says.

"No? What is it then?"

Jared presses his lips together, staying silent.

Jensen holds up his phone again. "Cops," he reminds him.

Jared swallows thickly, looking like he might cry and a small, stupid part of Jensen feels bad for him. "You're gonna think I'm crazy."

"I already do," Jensen assures him.

Jared huffs out a humorless laugh. "I guess, yeah," he says. "I know this seems… bad. But I'm not dangerous or anything. You don't have anything to worry about."

"Oh, good. You're a _friendly_ stalker," Jensen snarks, and thinks maybe he should just shut up. Kick Jared out and then get the hell out, because clearly this can't end well. And he shouldn't be talking to Jared, much less be in a room alone with him.

"I'm not what you think I am," Jared says quietly, and he sounds sad. Jensen grits his teeth.

"What, crazy?"

There's a moment of silence that stretches on forever, and then Jared lets out a sound that sounds suspiciously like a sniffle. "Human," he murmurs. "I'm not human."

"Fuck, you really are crazy," Jensen says. 

Jared frowns at him, and then the air around him suddenly ripples. For a second, his eyes flash red, and Jensen freezes, his throat closing up with fear and confusion. He blinks and Jared is gone. Jared is gone, but there's a cat where Jared stood seconds ago. Big, with brown fur and green-blue eyes that stare unblinking at him. 

Buddy.

It can't be. It's too fucking insane to be real, but that's still Buddy, right there.

"What the fuck," Jensen gasps.

And then Jared is back, hair falling into his face as he looks at Jensen with unsure eyes. 

"What the _fuck_ ," Jensen repeats, voice louder, higher. "You're not human. Oh shit, you're not _human_."

"No," Jared says, with a small smile that doesn't look happy at all.

Jensen stumbles back a little, until his back hits the wall. "Are you going to kill me?" he asks, feeling panic bubble up inside of him. And it's freaking amazing that it's only happening now, that he isn't screaming and running for the door yet.

"No. No, Jensen, fuck, of course not," Jared says, his eyes widening. His gorgeous, _green-blue_ eyes, and how the hell did Jensen not notice that?

"No? Then why are you _here_?"

Jared drops his head, until Jensen can't see his eyes at all. "Because you made me feel."

And Jensen's stupid, traitorous heart thuds in his chest with something that isn't fear. "I what?"

"You wouldn't understand," Jared says with a sigh. And he looks so miserable, sounds miserable too. "I'm sorry. I should just leave and you should forget about this. I won't do it again, I promise. I'll leave you alone."

He turns towards the door, and Jensen should let him go. Should tell him to get the hell out of here and then try to forget about the whole thing.

"Wait," he says. 

Jared halts, hand hovering over the door. "Jensen?" he asks.

"Stay," Jensen says, and he sounds more tired than anything, but he can't let Jared go. At the very least, he needs an explanation, needs to hear him out and ask questions, probably a million of them, until he has his head wrapped around this whole thing. "Stay. Explain it to me."

Jared gives him a wide-eyed look and nods.

+

They settle at the small table in the room and Jensen keeps his phone clutched in his hand, just in case.

"I'm a zmiennokształtny," Jared says, looking awkward. 

"Bless you?" Jensen mumbles, and Jared snorts.

"It's Polish. It means shapeshifter," he explains.

Jensen gives a small, humorless laugh. "I'd say you're crazy, but I saw you shift into a cat, so I guess it makes sense."

"Yeah."

"Can you shift into anything?" Jensen asks, and the thought bothers him. If Jared can, then he could be anyone. Then the guy Jensen met, the guy sitting in front of him, might not even be real. And it shouldn't bother Jensen, but it does. He needs Jared, this Jared, to be real, because he made Jensen feel things he hadn't felt in a while and that can’t have all been a lie. If the guy in front of him isn't really Jared, then it would feel like the guy Jensen met, the guy he liked so damn much, doesn't even exist. Like what they shared, even for just two nights, wasn't real either.

"No. Not anything," Jared says. "My family, we can only shift into animals. There are others who can do different stuff, but for us that's it. And not any animal… it's limited to a few, but you can get better with time and lots of practice."

"What else can you shift into, except for Buddy… uh, the cat, I mean?"

"I liked the name," Jared admits softly, a small smile playing around his lips, and Jensen shouldn't be endeared by him. Not anymore. He shouldn't be _attracted_ to him. "And, uh, about five. But the fifth is something I'm still working on, so it doesn't always work."

"What else, other than a cat?"

"A bat. And a bumblebee. And a giraffe, but that's not really… practical," Jared says, cheeks flushed. "I'm working on a dog. 'Cause people like dogs. Right?"

"Jared," Jensen says, his voice taking on a sharp edge. "A bat and a bumblebee?"

"Yeah?"

"You really have fucking been stalking me," Jensen hisses. "Shit, you know how creepy that is? How wrong?"

"I wasn't going to do anything. I wasn't going to hurt you," Jared rushes out. "I just… wanted to be close to you."

" _Fuck_ ," Jensen spits out. He gets up, running a hand through his hair.

"I wasn't going to get any closer. I wasn't going to let you know," Jared says quickly, as if that makes it better. Jensen isn't sure it does. "I was just… so lonely."

"Lonely. That's your excuse? You were lonely?"

"Yes," Jared says in a whisper, and fuck if Jensen's heart doesn't ache a little for him. He can't explain it, why he feels this way, why Jared gets to him so much, why he feels for him even now.

"Wanting to be around humans, liking humans, it's not exactly something shifters do," Jared adds. "My family never got it, they thought there was something wrong with me. And humans… they think I'm weird. I guess I am."

"Jared," Jensen says, a little helpless, not sure whether he wants to comfort Jared or cuss him out.

"I'm awkward around people. Because I'm not like you," Jared says and gives a small, wet laugh. "Too different to be a shifter and too different to be a human."

"Jared," Jensen repeats and moves closer. He sits down again and curls his hand into a fist so he doesn't reach out for Jared's. Quietly, he asks. "Why'd you follow me, Jared?"

"You made me feel," Jared repeats. "I… can't even explain. I'm not sure I get it. But being with you, it made me feel good. It's never been that way. You made me forget how weird I am, made me feel like there wasn't anything wrong with me."

Jensen isn't sure what to say to that. Because Jared made him feel too; there was something there, something that felt special, different. And it wasn't just the great sex. And then something occurs to Jensen and he swallows. "Jared, can you… do stuff? To me. Do you have some kind of… power over humans?"

"What?"

"The way I felt, the things I did, was that all me?" Jensen asks plainly, and he prays he isn't going to regret asking.

"I can't… I didn't make you do anything, Jensen," Jared says thickly. "Please, I promise. I can shift into animals, but that's all I can do. And I'd never do that even if I could, anyway. Please, you gotta believe me."

Jensen takes a breath and gives a nod. "Okay."

Jared gives him a small, broken smile. "Okay," he echoes. "So, did you? Feel something?"

"I shouldn't even be answering that," Jensen says. "I should be telling you to get lost. To get the hell away from me."

"Okay," Jared says and then, after a second, he gets up. "Okay. I'm so sorry, Jensen."

Jensen gets up, too, looking up at Jared. They're standing too close, and Jensen thinks he can see every emotion Jared feels in his eyes and the twist of his mouth. And he's still so beautiful – even after knowing what he does now, even after Jared stalked him across the country. Even though Jared is a fucking shifter, impossible as that seems. Jensen really should be running for the hills, should be questioning his own sanity, should be afraid or at the very least worried. He shouldn't want.

But he does.

"Oh fuck," he says, and he grabs Jared, pulling him down as he gets up onto his toes and presses their mouths together.

And it doesn't feel wrong. It doesn't feel crazy.

+

Jared nuzzles his face into the crook of Jensen's neck. Under the tangled sheets, he slides a leg between Jensen's, his hand pressing against the small of Jensen's back, pulling him closer. Jensen feels himself chub up again, rubbing against Jared's firm thigh, and he twists his fingers in Jared's hair and laughs.

"You're killing me."

Jared draws back, pretty mouth curved down into a small frown. "Sorry," he says. "Sorry."

Jensen laughs again and hauls Jared back in. "Nah, it's a good thing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Jensen confirms. "I think my body needs a small break though, baby."

"Okay."

Jensen sighs and catches Jared's mouth in a soft kiss. "Tell me more," he says. "About you. About… being a shifter?"

"Are you sure?" Jared asks, voice small. "We can just… pretend I'm not. I can just be, you know, human."

And Jensen knows Jared isn't talking about right now, he's talking about more than that. And it breaks his heart a little, that Jared would be willing to do that. Is offering that to him. He exhales and brushes Jared's hair back, tucking it behind his ear, and then touches his finger to the dimple that isn't showing right now, with Jared's face serious, somber.

"Tell me more," he pushes.

+

Two nights later, Jensen opens up a new document on his laptop.

Sitting up against the headboard, with Jared curled against him, face smushed against Jensen's hips, Jensen starts writing.

+

"Urban fantasy," Misha says.

"Yeah," Jensen replies. 

"Not what I expected," Misha adds, and Jensen gives him a wry grin.

"Not what I was expecting either. But I guess you never know how these things end up working out," Jensen says vaguely. "So, you liked it?"

"It's different. But yeah, yeah, I liked it. Wherever the hell this came from, it's a damn good story," Misha says, and Jensen smiles.

"It just came to me, I guess," he says, and Misha hums.

"Well, lets hope more things like this will come to you. The genre is really marketable right now," he says, nodding approvingly. "You know, I was starting to doubt you'd ever finish another manuscript. I think this calls for a celebration. Wanna grab a beer?"

"Not tonight," Jensen says. "It's date night."

"Ah," Misha says. "Well, say hi to Jared for me then."

Jensen smiles. For a second, his eyes are drawn to the big window behind Misha that's cracked open. There's a bumblebee buzzing around outside of it, dipping inside and out again through the cracked open space. 

"I will," he says.


End file.
